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Five years after structural issues forced the closure of the GrowHaus’ building in Denver’s Elyria-Swansea neighborhood, the nonprofit food justice organization has officially said goodbye to its long-time home.
On April 7, crews razed the 80-year-old greenhouse that had served as the GrowHaus’ main hub for a decade. In February 2020, engineers preparing for planned construction projects discovered problems that rendered the structure unsafe. The organization was forced to evacuate and indefinitely close the building, which had housed its community market, urban farm, and educational programs. Then, a month later, the COVID-19 pandemic hit, creating yet another hurdle for the 14-person nonprofit.
It’s been a bittersweet experience for Giselle Díaz Campagna, who was hired as the GrowHaus’ executive director less than a year after the building’s closure. “[The demolition] brought very mixed emotions,” she says. “Some in our team were saying goodbye, while others were getting an introduction to our land. Some neighbors recounted taking classes in the building when they were children and how much they loved those memories. There were lots of hugs and smiles, and some tears—mainly mine.”
After the initial closure, the GrowHaus found new ways to continue its mission to provide fresh, healthy, affordable food to residents of Denver’s Globeville and Elyria-Swansea neighborhoods, which the organization considers food deserts. The team secured a commercial warehouse in Park Hill to centralize activity, and since then, the GrowHaus has expanded its reach by partnering with Denver Public Library, the City of Denver, local youth education organizations, Tepeyac Community Health Center, and Boys and Girls Clubs.

Although the building’s closure forced the GrowHaus to stop growing its own produce, the organization now provides fresh food from donor partners to nearly 6,000 people each month at 24 food access sites throughout the city. “Losing the building really became an opportunity for us to see this work from a different angle,” Campagna says. “Not to minimize the tremendous stress it caused to both the organization and our neighbors, but it allowed us to realize that our programming was not bound to that space.”
The GrowHaus team also spent the past five years figuring out what to do with the shuttered building. Repairing the facility to bring it up to code was not feasible, given the extent of the structural issues and the anticipated repair costs. Instead, the organization’s leaders began raising money to tear it down. In the meantime, they tried to be good neighbors—the building was sandwiched between homes—by putting up fences and hiring security contractors to keep vandals out. For Campagna, it’s a major point of pride that the GrowHaus was able to pay for the demolition in cash. “That’s sovereignty,” she says. “It’s taken years to get here and save the money. But it gives us this metaphoric blank canvas to be able to activate the space in whatever way our community feels like. We’re beholden to no one but ourselves.”
The future of the site is undecided but, in Campagna’s view, bright. The GrowHaus will now move onto the planning phase, starting with a series of community listening sessions this summer. In the near term, Campagna is envisioning food justice “activations” on the land, which might look like festivals, pop-up markets, outdoor Zumba classes, or gardening. “I don’t particularly like looking at land just sitting there for years and then, all of a sudden, there’s a poster with a big building and all these big plans,” she says. “I’m excited to be able to figure out what investments need to happen at every phase.”
If and when the GrowHaus decides to build permanent infrastructure on the site, Campagna wants it to be environmentally sustainable. She’s brainstorming features like solar panels, e-bikes, and refrigerators and phone chargers community members can use during emergencies. “Whatever gets built there has to address climate change,” she says. “It needs to make it obvious that food insecurity is directly tied to climate change.”
Meanwhile, Campagna says the GrowHaus’ work has never been more important. She points to the Denver Department of Public Health and Environment’s latest food insecurity survey, which found that 15 percent of Denver residents were food insecure (defined as skipping meals or eating less because of a lack of money to buy food) in 2024. At the same time, the U.S. Department of Agriculture is predicting that food prices will rise by 3.2 percent in 2025. The ongoing federal government turmoil will likely only add to the strain. “Everyone I know has felt the pinch when they go to the grocery store,” Campagna says. “When you add those conditions to an already exasperated environment, you’re going to have a crisis.”
Despite the challenges, the GrowHaus team is optimistic about its ability to be a stabilizing force for its community. Campagna wants to challenge all Coloradans to reach out and help their neighbors—just like the GrowHaus has always done. “I can’t help but dare to feel hopeful, and that’s our act of resistance right now,” she says. “Hunger does not look a certain way, and this is why it’s important that we stop the isolation and we really connect with one another.”
To support the GrowHaus, consider donating, joining the Tambien monthly giving community, or signing up for the group’s food box subscription program.